needsnobottle | [06 - Video] Acceptance?

[The video clicks on to show a rather tired-looking Tammy; the angle is odd, and she adjusts it until it's more straight than it was. She's got her arms folded under her head and is probably laying on her bed. you can just see her Furby in the crook of one arm, behind her head.]

The writing's back. This tattoo is like one of those electronic anklets they put on parolees, only instead of simply confining me to an area, it starts punishing me if I don't do show and tell often enough.

[The Furby opens its eyes and whistles, and somewhere else in the room an answering whistle and chatter fills the room. Tammy lets the Furby's talk to themselves for a minute before she continues.]

Cap'n, just wanted to let you know, I haven't seen your friend. And...I haven't found any sign of the Doc, either. I think he might really be gone.

[Tammy turns her head to mumble something into her arms, then sighs and rubs her eyes against her sleeve before looking back at the screen.]

Bartimaeus. I'm ready.

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You do realize this is pointless, right? I'm thinking you must like making people look like fools. But whatever.

[Tammy scowls, and behind her the Furby whistles with a delighted hoot of "don't worry, everyone does it."]

I'll be there soon.

That sounds like the terrified tone of a djinni that knows his days are numbered. Remember this when you hit the Other Place - I'm doing you a favour.

[Bartimaeus is not selective in who exactly he fools here, but he'll not be spoiling exactly who his target is quite yet.]

Rest assured that I am not counting the seconds until your arrival. While he is an affront to djinnikind, I'm not the one sharing a skull with him.

[Rather than waste time bickering with the djinn over the journals, Tammy had resolutely maintained control over her body and marched herself to the specified location, doggedly ignoring Antalyon's rather bored insistence that no spell had been created to rip and djinn from it's vessel. She wouldn't believe him until she'd at least tried, and a small part of her was hoping that maybe it would work, maybe she'd be able to have her head and her body to herself again.

She arrives carrying her backpack, loaded with the items Bartimaeus had ordered her to fetch as well as her journal, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, wearing the baggy, over-large Christmas sweater Captain Jack had given her.]

[Bartimaeus is sitting cross-legged in the very centre of the Green, facing the executioner's block that rises in the northern end. He almost looks peaceful and serene and, well, he's not going to spoil the fun by giving away what's really going on in that djinni head of his.

When she arrives, the serenity of his expression changes to a look of disdain at the sweater.]

Getting your magician fashion on?

[She notices his posture but she doesn't see his expression, coming up from behind him and getting the benefit only of his scowl, so it doesn't occur to her that she should be suspicious. She sets her backpack on the ground and braces her hands on her hips, letting him get the full image of that gaudy, but warm, sweater.]

More like keeping the hypothermia away.

[That very image is causing him to lean away from the horrid thing that obviously crawled onto her to die.]

Yet one more reason to not inhabit such a frail form.

[He's pointing this out for your benefit, djinni.]

All else fails, you could simply succumb to your death of a cold and then sneeze him out. It would be more dignified than that.

[Seeing as Bartimaeus is doubtless addressing it, and since it was awake anyway--'cause it wasn't going to miss this--Antalyon responds, preceded only by a slight grimace on Tammy's end.]

And what fashion advice would you give, djinni? Have us go back to the days of rusted oil lamps and shackles?

[06 - Video] Acceptance?

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